Even as her fingers tangled in Edison’s stained shirtfront, the two men flanking him closed in, pulling her off.
Edison staggered backwards, managing to get a few steps closer to Stanton in the process. He swiped at his filthy shirt as if trying to rub off her touch.
“I’m more man than you deserve,” he said, adding a theatrical sneer.
She stuck her hands on her hips. “So you think.” She gave his crotch a withering look. “If that’s all you can be proud of…”
The guard at her side snickered.
Edison folded his arms over his chest, as if content to stand about hurling insults while Stanton set up to murder them. “Suited you well enough at the time.”
Ada laughed harshly. “So you’d like to believe.”
Edison grinned. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
No, he wouldn’t have done. Ada swallowed. Damn the man. Even facing down mortal danger, that smile had the power to set her alight.
She stuck close to the man guarding her. There might be an opportunity. For what, she had no idea.
Behind Edison, Stanton poured tartaric acid into a beaker containing cyanide of potassium. Now all he needed was water to initiate the chemical reaction that would create the deadly blue liquid. Once he added water, the resulting gas would become airborne.
They’d have just seconds to escape.
But it was a delicate process. In addition to creating a deadly poison, water made the mixture highly flammable.
She dove back into her role. “At least I’m not stupid.”
Edison growled. “Stupid enough to let me in your drawers,” he said as he rubbed his stomach, undoubtedly fingering the knife.
Ada snorted. “Only because you—"
“Shut up!” Stanton backed away from the table and threw up his hands. He glared at the guards. “If they don’t shut their traps, make them. I can’t think.”
Eyes hard, all three of the guards closed in.
“What’re you looking at?” Ada glared at the thug closest to her, drawing a stunned gaze. She willed Edison to seize the opportunity.
“Get down,” he warned Ada, and shoved both guards aside with all the strength he could muster.
Ada dove to the floor and rolled away from her guard, smashing straight into the makeshift stove.
Empty cans tumbled down in a cloud of dry chemical dust. Candle stubs and empty battery casings rolled across the smooth floor, scattering like a handful of marbles. Her elbow landed in on a soft blob that smelled suspiciously of bacon.
“Shoot him.” Grenville screamed like an angry child. “Shoot him.”
Edison hooked an arm around Stanton’s neck, the paring knife in his other hand. The intent look on his face made her shiver.
“Shoo—“ Grenville’s order faded into a gurgle as Edison squeezed his thick neck in the crook of his arm. He swung the man around, keeping his thick form between himself and the armed men now pointing revolvers at him.
“Back away,” he ordered. He held the tip of the knife to Stanton’s throat, just above his starched collar.
The man charged with guarding Ada hauled her roughly to her feet. Pain stabbed her in the temple as he pressed the barrel of his gun to her head.
At least she had one of them occupied.
She kept her gaze on Edison and tried not to think about the hard steel pressed to her temple.
Edison caught her look. She smiled at him, willing him to concentrate on whatever plan his wild mind had concocted. She wanted his mind clear, free from worry about her.
He had two other twitchy guards to consider.
Stanton gurgled as Edison jerked hard on his neck. “Let’s make sure you don’t have any more surprises.” He pocketed the knife and used his free hand to rifle through Stanton’s evening coat, checking pockets, and even his trousers.
Stanton wriggled against him, clearly enraged by the indignity, but Edison seemed not to notice.
Once he’d completed his search, one more hard jerk on Stanton’s neck and he stilled, his body limp.
Edison dropped him to the floor as if he were a sack of garbage and quickly grabbed two beakers of white powder.
He held the beakers out for Ada to see. “Was it the acid and the potassium that explode?”
At his feet, Stanton roused, thrashing about like a carp tossed up on a riverbank.
The beakers held to his chest, Edison shuffled out of reach of the man’s flailing arms. “Stay back, unless you want another taste of my blade,” he warned.
“It is.” Ada responded, careful not to nod. “Pour those together and you’ll blow the whole place apart.”
“Bleeding hell!” The guard furthest away stared at them as if they were all batty. He spat next to Stanton’s shoulder. “This ain’t worth twice what you paid.” He ran off, his lantern swinging wildly as he ran.
“He’s right.” Edison stared at the man holding Ada. “Not worth dying over, old chap.”
The man tightened his grip on Ada’s arm, making her gasp. “You won’t do it. He won’t do it,” he added to the remaining guard.
“Why wouldn’t I? We’re as good as dead anyway. This way’ll be quick.” He gave Ada a questioning look. “It will be quick, won’t it?”
“Quicker that what he had planned.” She jerked her head toward Stanton.
“See?” Edison moved the beakers closer together, as if getting ready to pour one into the other.
“Don’t.” The other touch raised his revolver. “I’ll blow ‘em straight outta your hands.”
Edison shook his head as if deeply disappointed. “Bad idea.”
“Don’t shoot!” Enormous gut hindering his mobility, Stanton struggled to sit up. His collar had come undone on one side, jutting out from his thick jowls at a ridiculous angle. “Stupid fool. They make poison gas. We’re too close.”
The guard holding Ada snorted in disgust. “You’re too close, old man.” He shoved Ada hard in the back, sending her stumbling forward.
“We can find another gig that ain’t so dangerous,” he said to his friend and ran off. Footsteps echoed through the cavernous building as he disappeared between the great machines.
The last of the guards looked between Stanton and the containers in Edison’s hands. “Bleeding toffs. Fight your own battles.” He tore off after the others.
Ada stared down at her old friend. The man she’d thought of as a friend. Her stomach roiled.
With his precious cravat rumpled beyond repair, and the over-long hanks of white hair no longer combed across his bald pate, he looked more like a nasty red-faced toad than the kindly gentleman she’d always imagined.
How had she failed to notice the cruel set to his mouth? Or the selfish quirk to his small lips?
Much as she knew about chemicals and their combinations, she clearly hadn’t the least idea how to read people.
Chapter 28
The guards had run off with their lanterns.
Now they had just the one. The circle of light shrank until it barely illuminated Stanton’s slumped form. Shadowed now, Edison waited just out of reach.
Ada stepped back, out of the light, where Stanton’s gaze couldn’t reach. The darkness was comforting, like an old blanket thrown over her shoulders.